


Played

by writingtoreachyou



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Confinement, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Loneliness, M/M, Prison, mentioning of violence, more tags to follow as the story progresses, sort of AU but as much canon as possible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingtoreachyou/pseuds/writingtoreachyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So this was it.<br/>All those years of anxiety, fear of being caught, paranoia and guilt had led Mike to this exact moment and place. And in this exact moment, he didn’t get why he wasn’t terrified. He probably should be, Harvey had told him way too many times that he was too soft for prison, that they’d eat him for breakfast, that he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t plead guilty, believe in himself, in the system, in their defense.<br/>Possibly.<br/>Most likely.<br/>But the stakes had been too high. He couldn’t have lived with the knowledge that someday - in the near or far future but who were they kidding? That day would definitely come - they would go after Harvey.</p><p>It was time to face the consequences...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [novemberhush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/gifts).



> ABANDONED! I really, really like the first few chapters still but then the actual show came back on and I was so pissed off with the prison storyline that I couldn't continue this one. If you don't mind that it ends in the middle, enjoy ;)

So this was it.  
All those years of anxiety, fear of being caught, paranoia and guilt had led Mike to this exact moment and place. And in this exact moment, he didn’t get why he wasn’t terrified. He probably should be, Harvey had told him way too many times that he was too soft for prison, that they’d eat him for breakfast, that he shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t plead guilty, believe in himself, in the system, in their defense.  
Possibly.  
Most likely.  
But the stakes had been too high. He couldn’t have lived with the knowledge that someday - in the near or far future but who were they kidding? That day would definitely come - they would go after Harvey. And if there’s one thing that he knew, it was that Harvey was even less prepared for prison life than he was. He would break. Gracefully, yes, but break all the same. So Mike had to protect the other man from himself because he had a feeling that he knew him better than anyone else, he had seen Harvey at his best and at his worst, knew his strengths but also his weaknesses - and Mike definitely was his weakness, their friendship had endangered everything Harvey had ever worked for. Mike hated the fact that he had destroyed other people’s lives in order to save his own. Way too many times over the past few years, people he cared about hurt because of their little secret that got bigger and bigger over the years.  
Harvey had lost Scotty.  
Louis had lost Sheila.  
Jessica had lost Jeff. 

It was time to face the consequences, even if it meant losing the one thing he was good at, the one reason he had kept on going despite everything, his one true passion. Taking that deal had been the only thing he could think of to make it all go away for the only family he had left. Harvey could continue practicing law, being the best goddamn closer Manhattan, New York, the world had ever seen. Donna could do her Donna thing, make it all seem effortless,having Harvey’s back and if she was smart (which Mike had no doubt about) never even mentioning his name again in order to save their asses. Jessica would not have to face yet another name change, she could say that nobody had seen it coming, that Mike had conned his way into the firm, had forged documents and bribed people to make everyone believe that he had actually gone to Harvard. And Louis… He would possibly say that he’d always had a bad feeling about Mike Ross but that he had not been a conspirer in the fraud which was why he should possibly become managing partner - until Jessica would find another way of shutting him up. In short: Business as usual.

They could all forget that Mike had ever worked for Person Specter Litt, pick themselves up, brush off the dirt and start over again. All but Rachel… His ex-fiancee.  
Mike closed his eyes for a second and tried to push the feeling of regret and pain to the back of his mind, this really wasn’t anything he could deal with now. It had been difficult enough to convince her that taking the deal had been his only option. That he couldn’t get married to her because it would destroy her future. But words had failed him when he’d tried to explain to her why she couldn’t tell Harvey what he was about to do.

„Mike, you need to tell him! He will never forgive you…“ 

„I can’t.“

„I mean this, loyalty is everything to him, it will break his trust forever.“

„But he wouldn’t let me do it!“

Mike hadn’t meant to shout at Rachel, she’d only tried to help but how could she possibly understand that Harvey had given him a direction, a purpose, the best goddamn years of his life? He had never been destined to succeed, not after that fatal accident that had changed his fate forever and the glimpse he had been allowed simply because Harvey had believed in him had helped him overcome all the bad hands he had been dealt. But now he was all in and had nothing but a 72o and it was time to fold. 

Mike had looked at his hands and whispered „He feels guilty… but it’s my own fault. I wanted this. I’ve always wanted this. I made my case. I convinced him to hire me. But it doesn’t matter… Cause even knowing how it all turned out… I’d do it again…“  
He’d finally looked up. Rachel’s eyes showed defeat, regret and utter sadness and Mike had known, that she’d wait for him, whatever it took. He didn’t want to do this to her, had to let her go. The past weeks and months had killed her, she was constantly on the edge, kept falling out with Donna and her parents and to top it all her studies were going to hell because Gibbs had pulled strings and called in favors at Columbia. But somehow the words to stop her torture had never passed his lips.

Standing here, waiting for the guard to let him in, he couldn’t get the images out of his head. The flood of tears they both had shed, the way she’d clung to his body and kept kissing him as if she’d known what he had been about to do. And the idiot that he was he hadn’t said that they should break it off because it would save her life - no, he had heard himself say that he wouldn’t be gone forever. And when she had insisted on sleeping with him one last time, Mike had been too weak to deny her wish.

Mike abruptly woke from his memories when a buzzing sound indicated that the door had been opened. He tried not to look back - what’s the use? There was nobody standing in that parking lot, he had insisted on doing this on his own to make sure nobody got hurt more than absolutely necessary. 

He didn’t have time to think if this was the beginning of a new life, a fall to his old one or a moment of transition, suddenly his mind was invaded with too many new sensations at once and he tried to memorize them all, take them all in.  
He entered a waiting area with about ten metal chairs screwed to the floor, not entirely surprised by the sight of it because he had spent the past 68 hours doing all the research he could on his new life. It had kept him somewhat sane to do as much reading as possible on Danbury, browsing websites, watching videos, tutorials to prison, advice what to bring (yourself!) and what rather to leave at home (pretty much anything else or they take it away from you and ask you if you’d be so generous to donate it for a good cause, read: gift the guard). He had spent hours and hours printing out pages and highlighting important bits and felt as ready as he could be.  
At least he wouldn’t be surprised by the processing, he already knew that he’d most likely spend an eternity answering questions and being examined and he had shown up four hours early because apparently early reports lessened the possibility for complications. Usually, there was a change of shifts in the afternoon and more often than not they didn’t manage to register all new inmates and they would lock them in segregation until the next day.

Mike knew all that, he felt mentally prepared. Or so he thought…

„Name?“ an officer by the name of Matthews approached Mike. Not that he had expected any kind of politeness, not only had he dealt with cops but also with drug dealers in the past but still he would have appreciated a little more respect.

„Michael James Ross.“ he replied simply. No need to make enemies right from the start. _Be humble. Be thankful._ , he mentally cited some of the advice he had found online. 

„Registration number?“ - this whole thing felt a little like a military camp.

„4732-53296, sir.“ Mike effortlessly cited the number he had found on his conviction note. The look on the officer’s face gave away that he wasn’t used to an actual reply to this, at least not from him. He had been about to say something, checked the clipboard in his hand and nodded. 

Officer Matthews reached for the handcuffs that were securely attached to his belt, locked Mike’s hands behind his back and escorted him into another part of the building, the former lawyer almost lost the envelope with his documents in the process because the angle in which he was tied up was anything but comfortable.He was guided into another room and the door was locked behind him - for the very first time.  
No turning back now.

„Any personal belongings?“ the officer wanted to know as he uncuffed him and Mike swallowed, he was beginning to feel intimidated already, all his reading might have helped to calm his nerves beforehand but now they were definitely kicking in. He held out the folder in his hand and replied slightly hoarsely „Self-surrender instructions. Legal paperwork. Address list for visitation purposes. Phone list. Five pictures…“

The officer grinned and reached into the envelope „Any Nudie Judies?“ 

Mike frowned and blushed but stared ahead with as much of a pokerface as he was still able to maintain „No, sir. Family. Friends.“ His mind threatened to wander off to the moments all of those pictures were taken. Happier days.  
But before he could dwell on that, he was asked „I assume you have a money order set up for purchases from the commissary?“  
Mike shook his head „My girlfriend western union’ed the money.“  
Officer Matthews’ looks made no bones about his thoughts as he replied amused „Your GIRLfriend. Is that so?“  
His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, when Mike replied „Yes, it is. Sir.“ _Stay calm_ , _Don’t let anyone rattle your cage_ , he cited from that website again. _Happy place…_

Matthews eyed him up once more, clearly not buying the ‚girlfriend‘ which made Mike uneasy - there were stories about guys in prison… he tried not to show it as he was handed a stack of forms and a pen, guided into a small cell not unlike the interrogation rooms he had been forced to visit a couple of times during the Pearson Specter Litt days and ordered to sit down. This time, Harvey couldn’t save him…

„Complete these and answer every question, Ross. When you’re done, somebody will pick you up“

And then Mike was left alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Mike stared at the paper in front of him and for a moment, he couldn’t compute. He felt exhausted already, even though he had only been here for a very short amount of time.  
Two years.  
Fuck.

He blinked, what if he wasn’t ready once they’d come to get him? He should get started…  
There were general questions on his life, most of them quite harmless but a couple of personal ones that he didn’t want to answer.  
How would he describe his relationship with his parents and immediate family? Fantastic…  
Was he religious? Not anymore.  
Did he have any STDs? Not that he could think of.  
Was he homosexual? Well, Matthews certainly seemed to think so…

When Mike was done, he waited.  
And waited.  
And waited. 

He had no idea when they’d return so he started compiling a list of all movies that took place in jail to keep his mind occupied. 

The Shawshank Redemption of course - a classic.  
_I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying._

Cool Hand Luke.  
_You run one time, you got yourself a set of chains. You run twice, you got yourself two sets._

When he had reached „The Green Mile“ _(I'm tired of never having me a buddy to be with, to tell me where we's going to or coming from, or why)_ , there was a loud bang on the door.

„ROSS?“ a new officer inquired.  
„Yes, sir!“  
„Number?“  
He should have known, shouldn’t he? He got to his feet, unsure if that was required of him but he figured they’d tell him should he have remained seated „4732-53296“.  
„Impressive,“ the officer replied more mildly as he opened the door and asked almost friendly „Are you sure this is your first time around?“  
Mike nodded and relaxed a tiny bit „Yes, sir. Good memory…“  
The friendly face was gone - _…they didn’t like showoffs, noted!_ \- and Mike straightened up again.  
He followed the new guy from the „R&D“ building to yet another part of the facility, through a maze of corridors that all looked the same. When they reached their destination, there was no doubt about the next point on their agenda - and Mike hated it already.  
They were in the medical room. 

„Alright, Ross. Strip naked. Your clothes go there,“ the officer whose name he didn’t even want to memorize considering what he was about to see, pointed at a basket and leaned against his desk, not even granting him this one moment of dignity but watching every move he made.  
Mike tried to act as casual as possible, this was no big deal, right? It happened regularly around here, he better got used to it… He first took off his shirt and then slid out of his jeans and boxers, trying not to overanalyze this - something that Mike was really bad at. If he used all his imagination, maybe he could pretend to be at home. Or at an ordinary doctor’s appointment. It worked for about five seconds, until the officer pushed himself off the desk and started circling him, checking him out without even hiding it. Mike looked straight ahead, trying not to show how awful this felt. Like a horse at an action, evaluated to be purchased.  
Mike lost all feeling of time but it seemed as if this moment dragged on forever. 

„Tattoos?“  
„No, sir.“

The officer without a name first ordered him to lift his arms - which was okay for Mike, even though he felt a little vulnerable to stand in front of this man, stark naked and surrendering himself. But when he asked him to lift his testicles, Mike swallowed hard. Once more, he experienced what it was like to have read something, done research, known what would happen but still feeling entirely unprepared. 

„Turn around!“  
Mike’s ass faced the officer and it made him uneasy.  
_Rule number one: Never turn your back on anyone!_  
He desperately wanted to work on autopilot but his stupid thing of a brain just wouldn’t give him a second of peace.

„Bend over and spread your cheeks. Okay. Now squat and cough.“  
Mike experienced shame on so many different levels, the strong desire to be swallowed by the ground left him almost unable to move but he silently abided by the orders he was given, squeezing his eyes shut and simply waiting for the ordeal to be over.  
After showing the sole of his feet, the humiliation finally found an end. The officer pointed at an orange jumpsuit and Mike got dressed as quickly as he could, trying to put what just happened behind him and look ahead.  
_Always ahead. Every minute in this prison meant another minute closer to release,_ he just had to keep remembering that. 

„You have the choice to send your clothes home at your own expenses or donate them to the institution“, Officer No Name pointed out and Mike looked at the stash of items he had left behind. Maybe Rachel would appreciate them? No. They would probably hurt her even more…  
„Donation is fine,“ he replied as steadily as possible.  
The officer just nodded and handed him another set of clothing, blue pants, a blue shirt and a white undershirt as well as slip on shoes. _If the color of the clothing says anything about life in here…_ , Mike mused but kept a straight face. He was led back to the cell where he had filled out his paperwork and they asked him to change. _Why would they first make me get into this stupid jumpsuit just to have me change again two seconds later?_.  
He looked up at the officer and nodded. 

„What’s with that look?“  
Mike’s eyes widened. „Excuse me?“, he asked calmly.  
„Do you consider this a joke? What’s that smirk for?“  
Mike quickly looked down, apparently his face hadn’t been that straight after all.  
„Nothing, sir.“  
Officer No Name frowned „Agent Superbrain - don’t forget where you are.“  
Mike quickly shook his head and mumbled „How could I?“  
The guard squinted his eyes together as if he wanted to evaluate the answer but decided to let it rest for now. He left the room and locked Mike in who realized that he had held his breath and exhaled slowly while he tried to get changed as quickly as he could. He needed to work on this, it could seriously get him into trouble. Jail was no place for wits… 

When the door opened again, Matthews was back. He led him into yet another room for a photograph and fingerprints before he was handed an ID that he was supposed to wear clipped to his uniform at any time upon departing his cell.  
„Don’t lose it, inmates will be charged a 5 dollar replacement fee for a new card!“  
Mike nodded and attached it to the fabric of his shirt. He then accepted the handbook of Danbury Federal Prison that included all rules and regulations and was finally ready to be transferred to his ‚new home‘. The whole process had taken forever, definitely a couple of hours and Mike tried to accept the fact that life would run a **lot** slower from now on. Considering the pace of work at Pearson Specter Litt, there would be a lot of adjusting to do…

Mike was cuffed and guided outside to a car that had just pulled up in front of the building. Matthews handed him over to the man in the vehicle who didn’t seem to be a guard because he wore identical clothes to his. He was probably Harvey’s age but looked a little scruffy, as if he needed a shave. His black hair was trimmed and reminded Mike of a military cut. He sat down next to him and was offered a handshake.  
„Jones, tax fraud, four years. Let me guess…“ he eyed him as Mike awkwardly accepted the shake with his tied hands, tilted his head and thought about it for a second. So much for rule number two _“Don’t talk about your crime in prison. See it as the beginning of a new life.“_ Yeah. Right. He wondered how many of the rules he had found online were utter rubbish…  
„You look like an investment banker with that hair you’ve got going on…“ he pointed at Mike’s head. „You might wanna look into more practical hairdos - gel is fucking expensive in commissary… So. Ponzi scheme, am I right?“  
Mike knew that he shouldn’t get engaged in this conversation, every single website he had consulted before coming here had told him to keep a low profile, use the time to better himself and leave his former life behind. But he couldn’t stop talking to people for two entire years.  
„No, wrong,“ he replied and looked at Jones, „Practicing law without a degree. Two years.“

Jones looked at him with curiosity. He seemed friendly - but then again Mike had a record of being too naive… Should he be more suspicious? He could at least try to trust his judgement and see where it got him, right? Oh God, he was already going insane - and that **before** reaching his final destination. Harvey would tell him to toughen up or make a stupid joke about his _special mind_ … He briefly shook his head to not even go there. If he thought of the people he considered his family now, he’d never survive the day.

„You kept that up for **two years**?“ Jones asked incredulously and grinned widely.  
„No, that’s my sentence“, he corrected silently, not even recognizing himself anymore, „Practiced five…“  
Now Jones was laughing wholeheartedly and patted his shoulder „Better keep that story to yourself, mate, quite a bunch of inmates haven’t really made the best experience with their attorney…“ Mike appreciated the advice, it seemed sincere enough and he nodded.  
„So, I take it there aren’t many lawyers around - fake or otherwise…“ Mike added the last bit as a bit of a funny afterthought and was mildly surprised about his ability to have an ordinary conversation despite everything.  
Jones was still laughing and shook his head „No, I guess real lawyers don’t get caught.“ He winked at Mike but seemed to realize that he had vaguely insulted him, so he added „But if it helps, I drove another one of your lot over to housing C about an hour ago but he was definitely a real lawyer because he was a proper pain in the ass. I’ll prefer a fake one anytime, at least you’re nice…“ Jones definitely seemed to be harmless, a little out of place even, Mike would never have considered to find someone like him in a place like this and he relaxed a little. 

Three more inmates got on the car and Jones started the ignition. He tried to engage them in a conversation the same way he had done with Mike before but they didn’t react. Maybe they had read those pages as well… Mike grinned softly to himself at the thought and stared out of the window. His mind wandered off to the other lawyer, he couldn’t help but wonder what he had done to get himself into this mess. Or if he knew that person - if he was convicted for anything finance related, any kind of tax fraud, money laundering or insider trading, it meant that he was possibly working for a corporate law firm, so the chances of having crossed his path before were not that low. Mike knew it was ridiculous but the fact alone that another lawyer was sentenced to serve their time at the same damn correctional institution somehow made him feel a little less forlorn.  
It took him a moment to realize the flaw in his thoughts: He was no lawyer - that was the fucking damn problem…

„So, Denny Crane, welcome to housing unit D,“ Jones grinned at him as he stopped the car. „…our home!“ Mike was almost happy to hear that this man was assigned to his unit. Again he tried to stop himself from being so damn open, he seriously needed to work on that. But for now he felt that he had at least one friendly face around.  
„It’s Mike Ross…“ he introduced himself, realizing that he hadn’t done that before and clumsily climbed out of the car, firmly holding onto the handbook and - more importantly - the envelope with his only reminder of the life out there. Jones waved „See you later, Ross!“ and drove off to the next unit.

An officer already waited for Mike.  
„Ross?“  
„Yes, sir. 4732-53296,“ he replied exhaustedly. The whole process and all those new experiences had worn him out more than he had realized before.  
„Welcome to Danbury Federal Prison. If you follow the rules and lead a quiet life, we will get along just fine and you will serve a purposeful sentence here. Unit D will be your home, treat it with respect and make the best of your experience.“  
Mike nodded seriously, he wasn’t even listening properly, by now all he wanted to do was sit down and take it all in - hopefully without breaking down to cry. So far he had held up remarkably okay, this couldn’t last forever…  
„Follow me!“ the officer instructed and opened the door and Mike tried to stay positive even though deep down he had a gut feeling that this place would break him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to be quite as long but so many things happened, I couldn't help it... Hope you still enjoy this ;)
> 
> *edit* I just changed the name 'Miller' to 'Hunter' because I read that the good guy in jail in the actual series seems to be called 'Miller'. I hadn't known when I started writing this (I was inspired by Broadchurch ;)), so now that would make things a little confusing, I've altered it.

„Why in God’s name did they cuff you for the ride?“, the rather bulky but not completely unfriendly looking guard asked Mike as he took off his restraints.  
„I thought that was normal…?“ Mike offered, he hadn’t even thought about it any further, by now he had accepted that matters were no longer in his hands, so he would just do his utmost to go with whatever was thrown at him.  
„No. It’s not. And where is your laundry sack?“  
Mike frowned and shrugged weakly. Was he even supposed to reply? And how was he to know that he ought to have one? Wasn’t that their job to make sure he did?  
„Fucking amateurs…“, the officer shook his head and attached the handcuffs to his belt. He sighed and rubbed his face „At least they gave you a handbook, read it, memorize it, make it your bible.“  
Mike nodded - it was all he seemed to do today… „Yes, sir.“  
„There should be a spare sack somewhere in my office, follow me.“

The officer headed straight to his room, not really caring that all of this was new to Mike whose eyes grew wider with everything he saw. He urgently attempted to not come across as shellshocked as he was. Even though the whole facility seemed surprisingly vast from what he could tell, there were still plenty of inmates that filled the space and the noise almost did his head in. Boots on concrete, chatting, bickering, laughter, coughing, complaints - it was simply loud!

A bag was pushed into his hands, catching him a little off-guard. Mike blinked, he had lost focus for just a second, that couldn’t happen, not at the beginning. Right now he was the new guy, he needed to do everything he could to blend in, not be noticed by anyone. Then he might just get by without ending in too much trouble.  
Mike wasn’t actually sure if he believed his train of thoughts but he wanted to at least enjoy that blissful state of ignorance for a little longer.

„Work shift just ended, everyone’s heading back to their bunks, they have ten minutes to get there in order to avoid disciplinary actions. - HUNTER, job for you!“ he waved a tall, muscular and scary looking, bald guy over who most certainly hadn’t been convicted for transferring money into a shady oversea account on the Cayman Islands.  
„Ross: Hunter. He’s gonna show you around. Get settled in. Check the bulletin board or TRULINCS for any call-outs. There will be plenty for now. Your A&O isn’t scheduled to date due to the current shortage of staff, make sure not to miss it once it’s set, it is of utmost importance. Read that damn book, it’s all in there.“  
Mike’s head started to hurt from all the nodding, he hadn’t understood any of those instructions even though he probably should have remembered them from reading about them before and slight panic rose in his chest. A feeling of utter confusion, of drowning. He wasn’t used to not getting things. And most definitely Mike Ross didn’t forget things!

Hunter looked at him impatiently „What are you waiting for, we don’t wanna be late for count!“, he rolled his eyes at his young new inmate who clumsily held onto the sack, the handbook and his envelope, about to drop everything while not moving one inch to follow his lead. Hunter sighed, ripped the documents out of his hand and stuffed them in his sack „Let’s go!“

Mike didn’t like this guy, it had been obvious right from the start that they came from very different worlds - no, correction, their paths had led them in opposite directions because if Mike was honest, he could have ended up just like him, had he not crashed that job interview five years ago. Mike wasn’t the bullying type but he definitely would have become a person he didn’t want to be and just when he had started to believe that he had no alternative but to throw all of his principles overboard, Harvey had turned it all upside down and given him the once-in-a-lifetime chance.  
In the end, the outcome was the same, wasn’t it?  
Mike swallowed. No. Still not going there. People could see him. He had to keep his act together.

„So, Ross. I have good news and bad news for you. Which do you wanna hear first?“  
Hunter didn’t even wait for his answer but ran right over him as he swiftly made his way across the floor, not explaining anything or giving Mike any second to adapt to his new environment.  
„Alright, bad news first: Usually, the new guys get to sleep in one of those privées,“ he pointed up to the other side of the housing unit that consisted of three floors of prison cells with doors, walls and everything you expected in a jail, „but as it turns out, the United States of America believe that this is Club Fed - does it look like Club Fed to you? - anyways…“

Christ, this man liked to hear himself talk! Mike was already fed up with him after two minutes, he couldn’t wait to finally get away from him…

„…what I was saying: Due to latest cuttings, we just had inmates from another prison come in which means they are all taken. Booked. Zero capacity! About a quarter of all inmates sleep over there. While the rest, and that includes _toi et moi, mon chérie_ , cozy up in the dorm. This…“ he went straight for a cubicle that was about the size of his initial work place at Pearson Specter Litt which held two bunk beds. „is our suite. Top is yours, the newbies always get the pleasure of enjoying the air up there… Don’t let your stinky feet hang down if you’re fond of your babyface.“  
Mike froze. Why wasn’t he surprised that this was happening? When had things ever gone smoothly for him? Of course he wouldn’t get to share with someone like Jones, that would have been too easy, wouldn’t it?  
Hunter roughly punched his shoulder and laughed „Just messing with you, you make it way too easy, man. For fuck’s sake, you should count yourself lucky that you ended up at Danbury, you might survive a month here - rather than a week anywhere else…“

Mike ignored him, for once he tried to stick to the rules he had read - the risk of falling out with his bunk neighbor was way too high, that couldn’t happen. Definitely not straight from the beginning when he didn’t know who his allies or enemies were.  
„You know, we don’t have to do any talking if you don’t want to, fine by me - but I’m supposed to show you around and I’m really not keen on losing any good time credit just because you give me your silent treatment. I’m only gonna explain all of this once, if you have questions, ask them now. If you don’t, good luck finding anyone else who answers them instead. And I guarantee you: Nobody here does anything for free - unless somebody makes them.“  
Mike inhaled deeply replied seriously „Understood. No questions so far. Continue.“ Should he have added a ‚Please‘? No, this guy wasn’t up for pleasantries…

Hunter grabbed the bag Mike had held onto tightly with one swift movement and emptied it on the floor. The skinny man felt the urgent need to protest, he inhaled harshly and tried to keep his anger at bay. Better for their captive relationship. And for his face.  
„Cool down, kid, I’m just gonna show you how to set up your bed - if there’s as much as one wrinkle in your stupid sheet, you will be disciplined. And I will be disciplined. And trust me: You don’t want to see the day that I’m getting punished for you not getting your shit together, got me?“  
Mike frowned and replied sourly „Loud and clear.“  
Not protesting really put him to the test, he’d rather spend weeks of due diligence work with Louis than just one night in the same cell as Hunter. The older man picked up both sheets, his pillowcase and the two cotton blankets and quickly and with expertise finished his task. Mike couldn’t help but wonder for how long he had been in here to be this thorough but quick. There indeed was not one single crease.  
„I read that you’re not sleeping under the covers but on top of them, is that correct?“ Mike asked just to say something. He already knew the answer to this, it hadn’t made any sense to him when he had learnt that nobody in prison did that any differently but by now, nothing really surprised him anymore.  
„Correct. So you’re one of those study guys, eh? Scientist?“  
Mike remembered Jones’ words and shrugged „Not really, didn’t even finish college.“ It was definitely better not to tell Hunter the whole truth - and in a way this could be considered a white lie, right?  
Hunter grinned at him „Well, could have fooled me! There you go, bed is set. You can put the rest of your things in the right locker, that’s yours. That sandwich bag holds your toiletries, make sure to save some of your money for toothpaste and shit, once you’ve run out of the stuff that’s in there, you need to buy new ones. If you mess that up - tough luck. You’ll run into quite some people with missing teeth - go figure.“  
Mike really had to fight his natural wit, he was used to countering stuff like that, it had been part of his job, part of his persona. Part of his friendship with Harvey. To always have a smart comeback.  
Instead he crouched down and picked up the remaining pieces from the laundry sack: the sandwich bag, a coat, three white towels and a face cloth. He put it as neatly as possible into his locker - Harvey would have a field day seeing him this orderly - and closed the door.

A red light flashed up in the far left corner of the dorm, next to the office of one of the unit officer that had handed him his sack. Mike looked at Hunter and asked „Count?“ and the other man nodded and grabbed him by his arm to position him next to his locker. He stood motionless and Mike followed his example, straightening up and holding his breath. Suddenly the entire unit was perfectly still, the only sound Mike heard very faintly was a fairly regular clicking and a couple of footsteps. Another officer he hadn’t seen before entered their cubicle, clicked the little counting device in his hand twice and left. When Mike wanted to move again, Hunter hissed „Psss, another one…“ and saved them both from disciplinary actions when a second guard came in and repeated the first one’s motion.

When the light finally stopped flashing and there was a „COUNT FINISHED!“ shout out from the other side of the dormitory, Hunter glared at Mike angrily „That was close, idiot!!!“ Mike took a step back, his pupils dilated from fear „Sorry, I wasn’t aware…“. Hunter shoved him briefly against the bunk and muttered „That’s why I thought you were bright enough to follow my lead… But what did I expect from a college drop out who pretends to be a smart ass?“  
Mike pulled his hands up in defense, „Alright, alright, I said I was sorry. You’re right, that was stupid.“ Those words had stung, he just wanted to eat and then crawl into bed and shut out everything - oh GOD, he couldn’t even do that. There wouldn’t be any ‚into bed‘ for the next two years…  
Hunter frowned „Yes, it was. From now on, do as I say, understood?“  
The sound of that terrified Mike but for now he really didn’t want this argument to turn into a serious fight, so he just repeated as composed as possible „Understood. When’s dinner? I haven’t really eaten anything since I got here…“  
Hunter grumbled „4.30. I know, it hardly qualifies as dinner but that’s how it is, get used to it… Now let me finish giving you a rough idea about this place.“

Mike nodded. He wasn’t sure he was capable of taking in any more information and processing it but since this wasn’t his call, he followed Hunter around and tried to listen to his explanations on laundry days, work calls, transfer slips, tv rooms, gyms, baseball teams, music groups, educational programs, counseling… Mike had to give it to Hunter, he actually seemed to be doing a decent job right now, definitely knew his way around and people respected him, there were occasional nods and remarks in their direction and a couple of guys actually told Mike that he would do just fine - apparently, he desperately needed to man up and work on his tough guy image because after not even fifteen minutes, he had been called ‚the boy‘ three times. That was not good. So not good.

„Are you even listening?“ Hunter looked at Mike in disbelief and disdain and the blond man snapped out of it. He admitted „To be honest, I’m pretty exhausted, it’s a little much…“ Hunter shook his head and raised his hands „Fine, you could have told me before I started talking to a wall…“  
Mike sighed and rubbed his face. He replied with hoarse voice „You asked me to do as you said, I thought…“  
Hunter frowned „Well, stop thinking. Now go, wash your hands, God knows where they’ve been today… Dinner time in five… And our block is first tonight, so better hurry.“  
Mike used the opportunity to get away from Hunter for a moment. He didn’t even want to know right now what all of this „our block is first“ stuff meant. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. He pushed the door to the bathroom open and was greeted by a typical school gym sight. The showers were to the left, the toilets and sinks to the right. Metal was the overall used material, probably to avoid any suicide attempts with broken tiles and make sure that the few funds that the BOP received these days didn’t have to go into the replacement of bathroom facilities.

Mike walked up to the sink, washed his hands and risked a short glance. His eyes resembled a deer in the headlights, no wonder everybody called him boy and could tell that he was terrified. He had been so sure to have maintained a somewhat intact front but who was he kidding? He was in jail, there were people in here that he would never want to spend five minutes with and he couldn’t run away from them, had to face them - and had to face his own demons. And nobody was here to help him through this. Rachel was far away, with him Harvey had lost his first important case (but to be fair, he hadn’t stood a chance with Mike taking the deal) and not even Donna could do her thing. He smiled sadly at the image of her fiercely barging in and telling everyone that she needed to rescue him because Harvey Specter expected him in his office first thing Monday morning to work on the Stanley briefs.  
NO NO NO NO NO, NO TEARS!!! He realised that his eyes threatened to spill over. He shook his hands dry, looked around to make sure that he was alone and jumped up and down puffing repeatedly to will himself to stop.  
NOT NOW, MICHAEL!

He faintly heard „D09, D15, D42“ - that was him - „go eat!“ and bit on his lip once more to make sure he wouldn’t break down in front of all those people in general and Hunter in particular. He rushed out and after some scolding („What took you so long, they’re not gonna wait for us!“), he followed him into the dining hall. „I’m not gonna babysit you during dinner, you’re a big boy…“ he patted his shoulder again „find yourself some kids to play with…“  
Mike frowned but was quite thankful not having to feign interest in his cell mate. He just watched what the others were doing and copied their actions - that was something he had mastered to perfection over the last couple of years: Dive into new experiences and do things he had never done before but blending in perfectly so he wouldn’t get caught.

The food wasn’t actually half as bad as he had imagined. Okay, the pasta might have been a little overcooked but considering that movie jail food always consisted of some indefinable slimy mash, he could definitely live with this.  
„ROSS!“ he turned his head a little and smiled at Jones who was heading straight for his table. „Mind if I join you?“  
Mike couldn’t quite explain the relief he felt. A friendly face… it didn’t make it easier to maintain his composure because he had a vague idea that he could be weak around the other man - even though he shouldn’t act on it. At least not in the near future. They had all the time in the world to determine if they could be something like friends. And anyway, it was way too early to even think about it - but Mike desperately needed something to cling onto right now.

Jones sat down and asked curiously „So word has it that you’re sharing with Hunter?“  
Mike nodded and held his forehead with his right hand while eating with his left. He knew he couldn’t say anything right now, gossiping was highly dangerous in here. You never knew who was connected and in which way. „To him I’m a college drop out,“ he explained, it would suck if their stories didn’t add up.  
Jones tilted his head and asked with a smile „Are you?“  
Mike pushed the empty plate aside, he shouldn’t have eaten all that quickly but the last decent food he had consumed had been the breakfast he’d made for Rachel and him before he had left her to head to Danbury…  
„Yeah, I am. Long story,“ he waved it off vaguely.  
„Oh, we have plenty of time to discuss our fucked up lives over endless games of billiard, if you like… I can imagine you’re not really in the talking mood tonight. I know I wasn’t.“ He looked at Mike sympathetically.  
Without realizing it, Mike shook his head and replied with a hurtful grin „No. I’m not.“  
Jones looked him straight in the eyes, something you were not supposed to do in prison under any circumstances but for some odd reason, it gave Mike the reassurance he needed right now.  
„It’s okay.“ was all he said.

They sat together without speaking and Mike’s mind wandered off to all the times he had worked next to Harvey in silence. A comfortable silence, not one of those where one or both counterparts desperately try to find something to talk about…  
God, he needed to be alone.  
He got up and said with a small smile „Was good seeing you again. And I might take you up on that billiard game. I warn you: I’m a pretty mean player.“ Somehow talking to Jones was still easy.  
„Oh, big mouth Ross, we will see about that.“ he grinned and continued eating his pasta, while Mike waved briefly, returned his tray and left the dining area.

He possibly should have waited for Hunter to finish but he knew that this was it for today. The meetings weren’t scheduled and he definitely didn’t have the strength to engage in social activities, so he grabbed his toiletries, headed to the bathroom, got ready for bed and quickly made his way to his cubicle before anybody saw that he was on the verge of crying. He fetched the manila envelope from his locker, took out the photos and climbed onto his mattress, resisting the urge to slide under the covers.

Mike turned onto his side, facing the wall of his cubicle, not at all caring that he turned his back to the general public but he needed this moment of privacy. For the past two hours he had barely managed to keep it together and he knew this was it.  
He had to admit defeat.

He shakily looked through his pictures.

His mum and dad.  
His grandmother.  
They would be so disappointed in him, all he had ever tried to do was make them proud and become the son, grandson that they had always wanted to have.  
„Grammy“ he whispered to himself, knowing that everyone was still at dinner and he could allow himself that moment of weakness. He bit into his hand to stifle a sob. Despite all he had done, he knew that his grandma would have accepted him back with open arms, she would have broken her back for him and to do this to her - even postmortem - broke his heart.

Rachel.  
Mike could absolutely not allow himself to go there. Their relationship had been more than weird ever since they had decided to get married. She had been nothing but loyal to him but all those fights they had had because he couldn’t give her what she had always dreamt of. And all the stress, all those demands… And now they were in this weird state of limbo. Not married, not even properly engaged anymore, still somewhat together but not really. Right? He had wanted to end it… He looked at the way she beamed at the camera. He had taken that picture and she had fooled around with him in the park. She didn’t like her goofy smile on it - he loved it…

Trevor and him.  
He had always been really fond of this picture, it showed the boys about half a year after his parents had died. Trevor had always been a friend, he couldn’t even be truly mad at him for testifying against him, deep down he knew why he had done it. He had a family now, had become an honest, decent man and Mike’s case had threatened all that. Yes, Trevor had dragged him down many times but if he was honest, so had he. They had always fought for each other. Life had taken its toll on their friendship but back then, they had been a strong unit. Trevor had threatened to never stop crying until his parents would adopt Mike when it looked for a second as if the youth welfare office considered his grammy unfit to look after a kid. He had possibly saved his life more than once and even though they weren’t good for each other, they also weren’t good without one another.  
Mike bit his lip hard. When had this gone so terribly wrong? He felt the tears force their way back up again and when he looked at the last picture, he was done.

Harvey and Donna.  
The dam broke and tears started streaming down his face. The picture had been taken in his office the day he had made junior partner and they both looked so proud. They had made him what he was today. Without their support, their understanding and their belief in him, he’d be nothing.  
Not even prison could change that.  
He started shaking and bit harder into his hand, squeezing his eyes shut while he firmly held onto the pictures. How could he possibly do this without them? Harvey always knew how to handle hopeless situations. He wished he could call him… If just to hear that he was alright, that he could hold his panic attacks at bay, that Harvey talked to Donna about this, to anyone. That he didn’t try to fix this all by himself. That he didn’t take the blame.  
He had to reassure Harvey that he was okay, that he could survive this, that he could figure out the other 146 options in case somebody pointed a gun at his head.  
Right now he wasn’t sure that that was true but if he had to, he would lie to him.

The rising noise level indicated that dinner was over and that people were engaging in leisure activities now. All those voices and sounds rang in Mike’s ears but he kept his eyes closed and tried to block them out. His mind began to replay all conversations, him and Harvey and Donna and Rachel and Harold and Louis and Jessica and all those other wonderful people had ever had. Even though he knew that he would never stop crying that way, at least for a little while he felt a sense of belonging. He felt home.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning came way too soon - a wake up call at 6 AM should not be permitted under any circumstances. Mike wasn’t very good with early mornings, at Pearson Specter Litt it usually took him until nine until he was working at full capacity. Of course he was not in the least comparable with Harvey who considered getting up at ten and coming to work at eleven more than appropriate. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how often Harvey would miss breakfast in these circumstances…  
Mike sat up and stretched, he definitely had no intention of starting the day without a decent meal, who knew how much - and what! - he would get for lunch, so he’d not take any chances.

Despite the early hour, he felt rested and realized that he had slept surprisingly well - maybe because he had exhausted himself crying. Or because once the lights had been turned off after their last standing count (for which he had conveniently avoided looking at Hunter who seemed very amused about his bloodshot eyes), silence had finally fallen and all the shifting and moving on those seemingly endless rows of bunk beds had come in monotonous, almost steady intervals. It reminded him of the movie _Dancer In The Dark_ , everything had its own rhythm, its own tone… That thought had kept him busy and distracted long enough to will him to sleep.

Day one.  
Time to get up.  
Hunter was already gone, possibly standing in one of those shower queues that he had told him about the previous day. Mike risked a glance at his bunk: It was very tidy, the bed already made as if nobody had slept there for weeks. If he thought of his own place, the flat he had lived in before moving in with Rachel, it was a stark contrast to these confinements, yet another thing he had to adjust to. In a way, this was exactly how he had always pictured the military and if he was honest, discipline really wasn’t his strong suit. He had always done things his way and gotten away with it, one glance at his surroundings and he knew that that would change drastically.

Mike looked down on himself. He had slept in the clothes he had been handed in the other building upon arrival. His prison uniforms had not been issued yet and he was worried that it could take a while - maybe it was part of this “A&O“ process he was informed about yesterday? If his fellow inmates didn’t recognize him as a newbie by the fact that they wore proper boots and he was walking around in those stupid blue slip-ons, then they would definitely begin to recognize him by his smell after two more days in this shirt…  
These little things really put his patience to the test. Catering to the inmates’ basic needs was this prison’s everyday business, it wasn’t exactly rocket science, they had had a record with his date of self-surrender so why in God’s name wasn’t his stuff ready? Shouldn’t they know better?  
Wishful thinking.  
Maybe, Mike began to wonder, this was part of the grand masterplan. Maybe they purposely did this to newbies like him to teach them their place.  
_You eat when we say you eat. You piss when we say you piss, and you shit when we say you shit. You got that, you maggot dick motherfucker?_  
He frowned sternly, repeating his mantra over and over _I am strong. I can do this!_ This wasn’t the first challenge in his life and it wouldn’t be his last and if he had somehow managed to survive both the death of his parents and that the drug related drama around Trevor, he could sure as hell deal with 26 months in prison.  
_So be a goddamn man, Ross! Toughen up!_  
The voice in his head bore a striking resemblance to Harvey’s, he noticed and smirked sadly.

Okay. Time for the three B’s of the morning: Bathroom. Breakfast. Bulletin board _(actually four but who was counting?)._  
Mike noticed that he was already beginning to have internal monologues - but at least he knew that he was a person he could trust, so talking to himself was definitely easier than to any of those felons in here.  
_Michael, you are one of those felons._  
He dismissed the thought fiercely, climbed down the ladder, pulled his photographs from under the pillow and securely stored them in his locker. He then attempted to make his bed as neatly as he could but whatever he did, it still didn’t look quite as perfect as Hunter’s did.

On the way to the bathroom, Mike allowed his eyes to wander a little. He was still guarded but aware that the more he knew about his surroundings, the less anyone could seriously harm him. Most of the clichés that existed about prison seemed to be true, Hunter had most certainly been right with one thing: This wasn’t ‘Club Fed’, he didn’t know what he had expected but Mike couldn’t deny the basic level of fear that he experienced with every step – even though he knew that many of his fellow inmates had been convicted of similar crimes: fraud, embezzlement, insider trading or money laundering but there were also drug dealers in here and maybe even murderers. Hadn’t Hunter said something about an overflow in another prison which was why now all those cells were occupied by guys from another place? Mike had a vague idea what that meant and he didn’t like it one bit. He had read in an article online that those guys often meant trouble because they came from street gangs and knew how to use their fists. So he watched his steps.  
Better safe than sorry.  
Better cautious than dead.  
He briefly gnawed on his lip and fought his nerves. So far, everybody had been more or less fair to him.

While he did his shortened morning routine – the first things he’d want to buy from commissary were a deodorant and a razor! – Mike was addressed by a very short man in his 50s with a missing eyetooth who had been introduced to him the earlier day. _Wingman? W…Westman_.  
“Ross! Coming for the rescue, can I nick some of your toothpaste?”  
So Hunter hadn’t exaggerated…  
“Westman, sure, have some.”  
He was too wary to hand him his tube, instead he took the other man’s toothbrush and applied as little paste as possible but as much as necessary because he didn’t know if his money had gone through. Plus he didn’t want to come off as naïve and easy right from the start.  
“Thanks, kid. Appreciated!” he grinned back at him while they were both brushing their teeth and Mike nodded politely.  
He had never been the kind of person who’d have his walls up.  
To be suspicious.  
On guard.  
In the early days, that had been Trevor’s job. Lately, it’d been Harvey’s.  
Quite easy to rely on someone else, wasn’t it?  
_Enough_ , Mike really needed to do something to stop his stupid mind from going places that weren’t healthy for him. He quickly finished getting himself ready for the day and left the bathroom.

There was a call-out for him on the bulletin board that he was supposed to report to his correctional counsellor at ten. Nothing else. Alright, so what was he supposed to do between 7.30 and 10 am? And what about work, did he have an assignment? Was he meant to spend that time in his cubicle since he didn’t have a permission slip to just wander around? That was something Hunter hadn’t talked about (or maybe he had in those moments his mind had decided to shut down and now he couldn’t ask him anymore). The feeling of being utterly lost spread over his body and made him very uneasy. He was the Sandra Bullock of Danbury FCI, floating around in space with nothing to hold onto.

Mike spent breakfast alone, watching the other groups from the corner of his eyes, how the white mingled solely with other whites, Latinos stuck to Latinos and the black men had their heads stuck together at another table. Come to think of it, the only people he had been introduced to by Hunter had been white, in fact his entire bunking unit was white. Even here, even in a low security prison, tribes and races were an issue. He frowned, what did that say about their society? Shouldn’t a place like a federal prison work on overcoming these issues? It made him angry, somebody should do something about this! Maybe he could talk to… _Mike, don’t even go there. Low profile, remember?!_  
Oh God, this wouldn’t be easy. It was something that was against everything he’s ever believed and stood for. Against everything his parents and his grandmother had taught him. And after having spent the last three years with Rachel, it affected him even more, knowing how much these things upset her. How could everybody around here simply accept it? Fuck, he cared too much.  
_I'm not about caring; I'm about winning._  
_\- Why can't you be about both?_  
 _I'd explain it to you, but then I'd have to care about you._

Mike had no idea where that had suddenly come from, why his conversations with Harvey kept invading his brain. Maybe some form of coping mechanism? Right now, they felt more like a punch in the gut.  
Every.  
Single.  
Time.  
Because they reminded him of the fact that he was trapped.  
On this hill.  
In this building.  
With double-fenced perimeter.  
Dressed in the same shirt he had slept in.  
Dressed in the same shirt he would sleep in again because there was no uniform collection marked on the bulletin board.

“Well, fuck my life…” he mumbled to himself as he got up to busy himself reading the handbook. Maybe, if he read **very** slowly, he could stretch it out until ten.  
Yeah.  
Right...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologise, this is the slow burn of all slow burns. I never meant to make it all happen so painfully slowly but with Mike being in prison and time being a drag in there, the very slow built happened automatically. I promise, there will be more action happening, it won't all be this introverted. Bear with me until he has settled down and the ground rules have been established. PLEASE!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long, I got washed away by work, private mess and other storylines and just when I got back into writing, my internet was down for some weeks. I hope you still enjoy this story and I promise: Soon Marvey will happen, this burns slower than intended... It's a fairly short chapter but it felt more natural to wrap it up where I did, more to come soon!

Mike had no idea how he had managed to pass the time until his meeting with the correctional counsellor. In a way, he looked forward to it, hoped it would give him some answers the strict rules he had just read didn’t provide. He now knew the structure of this place in theory, knew the do’s and don’ts but as always reality was written on a very different page, in a very different book - not even in the same fucking library. He had witnessed at least a dozen of violations of the prison statutes within the first 24 hours in this place and still had to find his way around here, learn who to trust and who to avoid, what to do and what to rather leave out. 

So when it was ten, Mike grabbed his handbook - he didn’t know if he’d need it, if they might test him (even though he couldn’t really imagine that they would) and if anything, he wanted to be able to hold onto something - and made his way to Rowe’s office. Hunter didn’t get along with that one, that’s all he knew about his counsellor and that didn’t really make him any less nervous. He had said that he was strict and direct and would sometimes jump to conclusions prematurely.  
So what should he expect? A military kind of man who’d yell at him and call him all kind of names, asking him if he knew where his place in all of this was?  
Mike didn’t know.  
Hell. What did he know?  
Not much these days.  
It seemed as if all the street smart he had picked up over the years was ridiculous compared to what he’d need to get by in here. He was just a kid, wasn’t he? At Pearson Specter Litt, he had often felt like the greenhorn. Harvey had called him the rookie so many times that he’d lost count but this was different. Here it was dangerous to be weak. That was something he knew, that was something anyone knew. And now he stood in front of this door, naive and too trustful, too open and too vulnerable and tried to adapt and embrace himself for what he was about to encounter. This was serious business. 

„Come in, Ross,“ he heard a voice even before he had knocked on the door and was caught off-guard before he noticed that his correctional counsellor had seen him through a small window facing the dormitory. They probably had that one in case an inmate ever lost their shit - so guards outside the office would notice. But it made him uncomfortable because it meant that they would be watched, whatever they talked about. 

Mike opened the door as controlled and in charge as he could even though he was quite sure that everyone could see right through his act. He approached the officer and was about to shake his hand when he remembered that you weren’t supposed to do that in prison, so instead he half bowed as a sign of respect and said with slightly raspy voice „Officer Rowe.“  
„Why don’t you sit down?“ the officer motioned at a chair across his desk and smiled at him.  
Huh. That open look was not something he had expected. But that could mean anything, couldn’t it? He did as he was told and folded his hands in his lap to indicate that he wasn’t searching for any trouble. 

„Michael James Ross, 35 years old, orphaned, no relatives,“ the officer looked into his case file and sifted through some papers, raising his eyebrows every now and again. „I’m almost surprised that they got you for wrongfully impersonating a corporate lawyer. Seeing from your record, you could almost be the poster boy of a drug dealer. A con of some form, yes, but why lawyer?“  
Mike wasn’t sure if that wasn’t a rhetorical question until the counsellor looked up at him curiously. Oh.  
He really wanted to know. 

„I wanted to do something good for people. I love the law.“

Rowe shook his head in amusement „You love the law. And pled guilty of fraud.“

Mike raised his hands almost apologetically and shrugged, he couldn’t really explain it, could he? „It just sort of happened. I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer but then I was kicked out of college and that made it impossible.“ he said quietly. 

„You were kicked out of college because you sold a test to the dean’s daughter,“ Rowe pointed out. 

„Yes,“ Mike nodded seriously. „I know. But I didn’t hurt anyone. I was young and easily led astray and…“

Rowe looked through his file again and stared straight into his eyes, making sure that Mike knew he was a no bullshit kind of person, „You know, I can tell where this is going. You’re a victim of the system. You made one mistake and have had to pay for it ever since even though you’re a good boy. Guess what? I’ve seen plenty of kids like you. Smart, full of themselves, thinking that the world owes them something and that they have been wronged by fate. But look at it this way: If you liked the law that much, you would have played by the rules. But you didn’t. You chose a shortcut.“

„I had no choice,“ Mike cut him off, taken over by a strong desire to defend himself. He had had this conversation so many times in the past that he forgot for a second where he was. 

„Of course you had a choice. I know that you needed money for your grandmother. It’s all in the file. And you may tell yourself that your intentions were noble and you only did it for her. But Mike, I would advise you to use your sentence here to think about it. Your motives. Your background. Was it really the only way? Did it justify lying to hundreds of people? Jeopardizing their cases, their companies, your former employees’ reputation? Are your needs more important than those of a Jessica Pearson? Or a Louis Litt? I’m not talking about Harvey Specter here because despite what you say, I am certain he was in on all of this. Common sense tells me that he must have been your inside man on the job.“ 

Mike didn’t want to admit how much every single word Rowe had just said had hit home. Gotten to him. Grabbed him and strangled him. Yes, he knew that the officer was right, he was ashamed of himself for what he had done, for how he had fooled everyone and pretended to be somebody he was not. And he couldn’t blame Harvey because he had done it before - back in the days when he dated Claire. It was in his nature to be a fraud and to pretend to be somebody he wasn’t. And he’d have two long years to learn to come to terms with it. 

„Harvey Specter had nothing to do with this,“ he replied with shaky voice. „He gave me a chance, he saw my potential and he had no idea what he got himself into.“  
In a way that was true. Nobody had known what kind of hole they had started to dig the very first day Mike had set foot into that interview room. But whatever happened now, he would never do something as disgusting as betraying Harvey’s trust. That man had put his own career, yes his own life at risk for him so many times.

Rowe rubbed his forehead „We will have regular meetings to monitor your progress. Should you recover from your momentary case of memory loss regarding the role Mr Specter played in our career options, I am sure we could add a couple of visiting points to your privileges to express our gratitude.“  
Mike frowned. This was blackmail, wasn’t it? And besides „My deal included immunity for my former work colleagues, so hypothetically speaking: Even if there was anything - which I’m not implying with anything I’m saying right now - it wouldn’t change anything, would it?“

His correctional counselor shook his head and sighed exhaustedly „Ross, there is still so much for you to learn. But don’t worry, you’ll get there…“

Was that a threat? Mike’s eyes widened a little but he tried to keep a straight face. They couldn’t do anything, he had read the deal more carefully than anything else in his life prior to that exact moment. When he had signed with date and time, the prosecutors who had been breathing down Harvey’s neck had disappeared. The agreement had stated clearly that from that time on, nobody would go after Pearson Specter Litt. So what was the point of this little charade? 

Luckily, Rowe didn’t expect a reply, Mike wasn’t sure he could have given one. He continued talking about the orientation process that would still take a while, about the structures of Mike’s day, the fact that he couldn’t start working until he had finished „A&O“ and just life in prison in general. More often than not, he watched Mike’s reaction, took notes and made the young man very uneasy.

Eventually, he pulled out a couple of sheets with programs and counseling groups, quickly put the ones related to alcohol and drugs aside and to Mike’s surprise pushed one leaflet over.  
„I want you to take part in this weekly program. It’s not a choice but mandatory because I say it is. If you fail to show up, you’ll get an official warning. If you’re warned twice, you’ll be sanctioned which can be anything from a monetary fine to the loss of privileges.“  
Mike took the leaflet, unsure what he’d find but he could tell why Hunter disliked this guy. He knew what he wanted and how to get his point across and something about him intimidated Mike, even though he was mostly smiling at him. But he had stripped him off his guard in two seconds, pointed out painful truths’ and other things Mike didn’t like to hear. And now this.

_„Mourning and grief - how to overcome the loss of a loved one“_

Mike couldn’t believe it. His eyes restlessly scanned the headline again but it didn’t change.  
He felt hot and cold.  
He wanted to ask why on earth he was expected to join the program.  
Yet he was too overwhelmed to speak.  
When Mike tried to read the description, he realized that he couldn’t process it even though it only consisted of five lines and just put the leaflet down in defeat. He looked at his counseling officer with shaking hands, no longer able to keep up his act and felt tears burn in his eyes.

Rowe returned the look and stated matter-of-factly „I guess I made the right choice.“


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, holidays and then also two other stories kept me busy but I decided to have a little time jump here, don't get confused that I didn't start it with "3 months later" ;) You will see why I did it but I still plan to fill in some of the gaps in the upcoming chapters.

“Ross, have you understood all the things I told you over the past fifteen minutes?” A guard he hadn’t seen before looked at him with open concern. He wasn’t as harsh and unforgiving as the ones he had met in his own unit so far but Mike came to the conclusion that it was down to the state he was in rather than the guy’s general attitude. He nodded vaguely, regretting it immediately when a sharp pain pierced his right eye. He rubbed it very carefully, knowing what it did to him last time he did so and winced quietly.   
“I’m in here for my own protection which is why I have my personal belongings and may buy things from commissary. I will spend 22 to 24 hours in this cell. I will be guided to the shower room a couple of days a week. I’ll shower shackled and in front of a guard. Due to the limited space and amount of inmates you are handling at present, I might have to share this cell with somebody who is not in here for administrative detention which you call A/D but for disciplinary segregation, D/S. You will make sure that none of the inmates you might assign to this cell will be from my unit to protect me from the gang structures I’ve just faced,” Mike rattled down the facts in a robotic, lifeless way and just stared at the floor.   
He was done. 

All the stupid idealistic advice people had given him before going in! To keep his head down, not get into any trouble, stay out of gangs, go to work, go to support groups and not trust his cellmate or anyone else in there. They didn’t know shit about real prison.   
And what about him?   
Had he really known what he had gotten himself into?   
No.   
How could he have foreseen the hell he had experienced over the past two months? In a naive, almost romantic way he had thought this could become some kind of purgatory, a way to wash away his sins and clear his conscience. Provide a fresh start for him and Rachel. If only he had known…

“Can you sit?” the guard asked almost compassionately. Mike didn’t dare to look at him, that was something he had learnt early on. No eye contact. With no-one. He pressed his lips together tightly - signs of weakness could be lethal around this place - clenched his hands into fists sorely and mumbled in embarrassment “Yes, Sir.” before slowly sinking into a sitting position. Everything hurt. The moment his ass made contact with the mattresses - they had been kind enough to give him two, considering the state he was in - a sharp pain ran up his spine and he hissed as quietly as he could, tears jumping to his eyes.   
“Sorry we cannot keep you in the infirmary, we needed the bed.”  
“I know. Thanks anyway,” Mike stared at the floor and just wanted to be left alone, feeling ashamed and utterly destroyed. But the moment the door actually closed behind him and he was on his own for the very first time since admission, he wanted nothing more than for the guard to return.   
His heart began to race and he felt seriously caged. Awful thoughts invaded his brain and he was too battered and broken to gather the strength to fight them off. If somebody paid off a guard to get in here at night, nobody would hear him.   
Nobody could save him.   
Not even Jones.   
Oh God, Jones had to be safe! He needed to get a message to him. Mike wasn’t in here for punishment, he was in here for protection, they had told him several times - so he should be able to get a letter to Jones, right? To warn him? They’d even sent threats to the infirmary that they would end him! Jones had saved his life and he couldn’t do anything to protect him in return.

There were footsteps along the corridor and Mike found himself asking silently “Hello?” The defeat in his own voice scared him but so did the prospect of spending a month or longer in this tiny cell to not be killed by the men that Hunter hung out with. The men who were ganged up around a guy called Frank Gallo who was in here for something big, that much Mike could tell because everyone was terrified of him. And without knowing what he had done, he had become his target.   
For weeks, Mike had wondered why they had shoved him down the corridor, calling him names, slamming their fists into his stomach. For weeks he had tried to stay out of trouble, let them do whatever they wanted to do without fighting back because Rachel was the only person he still had left in his life and he knew that if he started a riot, he wouldn’t be allowed to see her. And all those days and nights, all he had needed was an answer. Why was this man after him, what had he done to him? Or was it just because he was new and easy to scare? Had he possibly gotten Hunter into a mess without knowing it and now his gang got back at him that way? Harvey would have known how to deal with this… 

Mike gnawed on his swollen lip and leant the back of his head against the concrete wall behind him.   
Harvey.   
Why was he avoiding him? Because he was ashamed of him? Was it because he felt guilty? Tried to get PSL back on track? Was it really to save their reputation? 

Rachel never talked about it, she became awfully quiet when he brought it up and found shady excuses that nobody bought; she had always been a bad liar. Sometimes he wondered if it was because she was jealous… Because if he was honest, he had chosen Harvey over her more than one time, hadn’t he?   
No, she probably just tried to protect Mike from the blow he’d feel knowing that Harvey had to save his own ass and therefore forsake him. And he wouldn’t blame him. It was the smart thing to do. The only right thing to do. Still. He needed him. More than he could ever express. 

His personal belongings were there. Mike turned a bit even though every movement hurt and reached for his pictures that slowly started to crease and placed them gently on the mattress. No, he wouldn’t cry today. He hadn’t cried for weeks. Crying was weakness. Weakness meant violence and violence had landed him in the infirmary twice before they decided that for his own protection he needed to be locked away in the SHU. In a cell that was so minuscule that he could probably reach the other wall with his foot if he wasn’t beaten black and blue and could actually move. And the noise level was intimidating. It was very quiet, he could hear his own breathing. At the same time, somebody was screaming and banging against the metal door at the far end of his block and he could hear feet shuffling along the corridor - in no hurry, as if these screams of madness were day to day business - which they probably were. 

This was actual, proper prison. With a metal toilet in the cell, no privacy, locked doors, no windows, walks ’outside’ under a roof so you couldn’t see the sun. No human contact. No joking, no conversations, no movie nights. His worst nightmare. 

He had never been particularly good company to himself which is why he had spent all his free time with Trevor as a kid and at work with Harvey or at home with Rachel later on. Because being on his own meant that he’d have a harder time pushing away his dark thoughts, those voices nagging him that he was a bad person, a failure to his parents and grandmother and a nightmare fiancé who kept pressuring his girlfriend or whatever she was these days to tell her about the company and its employees that had landed him here in the first place. And when she wouldn’t tell, he’d get impatient and deploring and an awful person.   
No wonder she wasn’t seeing him as regularly as she did in the beginning. Their time together was supposed to be good, well as good as it could be under the circumstances but he kept making it a living hell. He kept shouting at her instead of explaining what was going on in his life and he should be more patient when she wouldn’t talk about Harvey. But she was his only lifeline. The only connection he had left to the world he used to live in and every single time she refused to talk about it, it killed him slowly.  
And her, too.   
“Why don’t you stop asking me how Harvey is doing, blame him for not being here and acknowledge that I on the other hand am! I am here, Mike. And I want to talk about us. About what this place is doing to you. I want to hear about your days, know that you are safe,” she hadn’t meant to sound as accusing as she had but it had driven Mike to shout at her “I’m asking because you are my life. All of you are my family, my everything. You wanna know how I’m doing? Every night I think somebody might slit my throat in my sleep and every day I walk down those long corridors, I wonder which guard was paid off to look the other way so a bunch of criminals can push me to the floor and kick me in my guts until I tell them that I’m sorry for whatever I did. While I don’t even know what it was that made them freak out because then at least I could do something about it. I’m not safe and I won’t pretend to be fine anymore, I’m exhausted and I’m sorry but I think you should go.”   
When he’d stared at her with big, shocked eyes about his own outburst, she had scrambled to her feet, tears streaming down her face and said “This is not you talking, Mike… But… I need to go.”

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, that he didn’t want her to go, that he’d do anything to make it all go away but she was wrong: This was him talking. Prison Mike.   
She had fallen in love with fake lawyer Mike. But fake lawyer Mike was dead.   
He would have cried.   
He would have begged her to stay.   
But prison Mike watched her leave the visiting area before he was guided to yet another strip search, coldly and mechanically obeyed the orders with a short “Yes, Sir.” and focused on his way back to his bunk so he didn’t have to look back and think about what had happened and what it meant for the remainder of their relationship.  
Prison Mike couldn’t show emotions. Emotions killed you.   
And he needed to survive on his own. 

On his own. Without friends. No calls. No letters. No inmates.   
Mike stared at his pictures and put Rachel, Harvey and Donna away. Then Trevor. He had to fight on his own. Try to survive and somehow rescue the tiny bit of humanity that was buried deep down inside of him.   
Grandma.  
Mum.  
Dad.  
He looked at the three people who were no longer with him and asked quietly “Did you ever picture this? Are you as disgusted as I am?” He didn’t wait for a cosmic answer and quickly put the images of his family away. 

It was too early to go to bed - at least he assumed that. There was no light or clock to tell him what time it was so he had to go by the sunlight he had seen last when he had been brought to his new cell. What could he do? Read? Think?   
He looked over at the other side of the cell and wondered how the hell two people should fit into this tiny space that was definitely only constructed for one - but the federal prison system didn’t get enough funding, everybody knew that. Toilet and sink - no mirror, possibly too dangerous - were at the feet of his own bed, the door opened towards the other one. At the moment he would rather be alone. He had enough of other inmates, most of them were hostile, dangerous and violent and he had learnt the hard way that being one of the skinnier guys was a death-sentence in here. Mike carefully lay down, trying not to injure himself in the process. Last he had seen, his face had been black and blue, his right eye still almost shut, his lip swollen and his entire body covered in black spots that were slowly fading to an ugly yellow. One rip was broken and bandaged and by playing dead when they had repeatedly kicked his groin, he had probably averted any lasting damage. No concussion, just a massive headache. He couldn’t curl into a ball, so he stared at the ceiling and hoped to just never wake up again. It would be easier for everyone and nobody would seriously miss him for long. The luck of an orphan…

He stared at the ceiling and tried to remember better days but lately, his brain failed him. He started to forget. Small bits. Bigger bits. As if it tried to save him from a meltdown. Mike closed his eyes and despite the desire to keep up daily rhythms to not completely mess up his system, he began to drift into a restless sleep.   
People were laughing at him.   
Gallo. Hunter. Rachel. Hunter. Gallo. Harvey. Gallo. Rachel. Hunter. Gallo.   
Towering over him, they kicked him and laughed, pointing out what a failure he was and that he had been stupid to take on the deal. Gibbs sneered at him and pointed out “I got you right where you belong, you piece of scum. You didn’t earn it, so pay the price. Nobody will miss a filthy little fraud like you.”  
Mike sat up abruptly, causing his entire body to shake in agony and he screamed out in pain, aware of the fact that some lonely guy on the other side of SHU possibly considered him the maniac now. He was panting and rubbed his aching rib.  
Two years.  
Two more years.  
And who knew how many of those in this cell.   
He lay back down and turned to his good side, facing the wall.   
“Please… just don’t let me wake up anymore…” he whispered, terrified by his own thoughts that became more and more tempting every time they occurred to him. He closed his eyes and tried to push them away. _No. Be strong, Mike. Don’t be an idiot. You’ve gotten out of so much shit in your life, you will get out of this one. Even if nobody will be waiting for you. For Grammy. For mum and dad. Fight._

Suddenly, there was noise down the corridor. Somebody was fighting with at least one guard, possibly two. There was kicking and screaming and Mike tried not to panic. He was safe in here. Nobody would hurt him anymore. When the sounds came closer, he almost forgot to breathe, his heart was beating heavily against his chest and his headache got worse.   
_Please… Pass by. Don’t come in here. Don’t… Please…_

Mike knew that his prayers were left unanswered when the door was pulled open with force. He didn’t turn around, feeling way too fragile and exhausted to face whoever was put in here with him - obviously a D/S. 

“You have no right to do that to me, I did not violate any of the rules stated in the handbook. If you forgot to include them in there, it is not my goddamn fault!!!” 

Mike froze. He’d recognize that voice out of a million.   
No. No, this couldn’t be.  
Rachel hadn’t told him… She hadn’t prepared him… she hadn’t…   
Oh God. It all made sense now!   
How the fuck? Why the fuck? He felt sick, unable to move.

“Specter. Shut up, the longer you argue with me, the longer we’ll keep you down here.”

And with a loud bang, the door was shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to leave you waiting for Harvey any longer ;) The actual series also stole some of my ideas, the whole Gallo thing was something I had in mind for months, so I had to be quick now before there is nothing left to tell - therefore the jump in time. And this is of course the moment, the AU becomes an actual AU.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to novemberhush for having beta'd this in warp speed :)

Mike’s headache almost killed him when Harvey banged against the door, blind with rage, most likely hurting himself in the process but venting the anger that had built inside of him. He seemed to be so busy that he hadn’t even noticed him yet.  
Nothing made sense to him. This shouldn’t be possible. There had been a deal. A bulletproof deal. Nobody could have come after Harvey - unless he turned himself in and why would he do that after hearing that Mike had accepted Gibbs’ offer? He rubbed his forehead with his good hand and groaned as he turned to his back, still expecting to wake up from a dream any moment now. Because seriously? This was absurd. This couldn’t be happening.  
Besides, they would never put them in a cell together, right? So it had to be a hallucination.

A very loud hallucination.  
And a very solid one, too.

“Harvey…” he tested his voice that came out small and shaky. He tried to sit up, wincing in pain as his broken rib made itself felt. When the other man didn’t react immediately but continued banging on the metal, he inhaled deeply, something he regretted at once, and repeated loudly “HARVEY!”, propping himself up on his elbows to take some pressure off his injuries. He blinked against the piercing torture behind his right eye and hoped that Harvey would stop making such a racket. When he turned around to stare at him - first in surprise, then shock as realization kicked in followed by open worry, Mike swallowed and couldn’t keep his gaze. He had to look away. Down. He didn’t want him to see him that way.  
Broken.  
Battered.  
Destroyed.

Harvey’s entire posture changed from angry caged animal to protective friend as he rushed to his side and sat down on his own bed - the one with the single mattress. He put his hand on Mike’s shoulder and looked at him with wide eyes “Mike. Who did this to you? …And what the hell are you doing here?”  
Mike covered his teary right eye with his hand, rubbed it soothingly and replied in an agitated, impatient manner “What do you mean ’What the hell am I doing here’? There was a trial, remember? We talked about this, there was no way I’d let anyone pay for my mistakes! So why on earth would you be in here? The deal was tight! I pled guilty so they wouldn’t come after you or anyone else at the firm.”

Harvey shook his head in disbelief, Mike could see comprehension dawning on him as he balled his hands into fists and clenched his jaw, muttering “Son of a….” but he had no idea what it was that Harvey had just figured out, so he asked carefully “…what?”, not sure if he actually wanted to hear the truth. He had a feeling he wouldn’t like it. 

Harvey got to his feet and extended his arms - always a man of grand gestures “I went to Gibbs to plead guilty so she wouldn’t go after you. When did you sign the deal?” Mike’s head hurt. That was impossible, Gibbs had tried to turn him against his boss and friend until the very last second.  
“Two twenty-five,” Mike replied quietly, all of this was too much for his head and by now he felt physically sick.  
Harvey pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a deep breath, his body was shaking and Mike wasn’t quite sure if it was from anger or defeat setting in. “Three thirty,” he simply stated before he let himself sink on to his own bed, shaking his head, pointing out the now obvious “I cannot believe that she played us… I had no idea you had taken the deal. You should have called me! Didn’t Rachel ask you to have faith in yourself?”  
Mike swallowed hard, his shoulders sagged and he sighed “I could not let you go to prison, Harvey. I would not have been able to live with myself.” Harvey shook his head and grimaced “It’s my goddamn fault… All of it is. Donna tried to stop me but I couldn’t let you… This…” he gestured, suddenly seeming very exhausted “…happen. I knew you’d have a hard time in here. You trust too easily.”  
Mike frowned and muttered “Thank you very much, Harvey. That is what I’ve missed about you most.” Harvey opened his mouth and was about to say something but changed his mind last minute. That was very unlike him but Mike didn’t want to press things. Not now. They would have all the time in the world to talk about all of this - and it was better to do so with clear heads. 

They just stared at each other for a moment and then both shook their heads, tired from everything they had to deal with over the past months. Harvey reached out for Mike’s shoulder and gently pushed him back. Mike who had learnt to always stay on guard tensed immediately and asked with edgy voice “What are you doing?”  
The older man frowned, there was recognition in his eyes, understanding and Mike hated it. They used to be comfortable in each other’s space but right now he wasn’t good with any physical contact. Harvey still didn’t back away “Don’t be such a child, calm down for a while, headaches are no fun without fresh air or painkillers, so do yourself a favor and rest.” He got up and looked around at what they were provided with in there. It wasn’t much. Mike watched what he was doing, unsure where this was going when Harvey pulled the pillowcase off his own pillow and walked over to the sink to soak it - Mike couldn’t see the latter from where he was lying but he heard the water deafeningly loud. 

“Did they test for concussion?” Harvey asked as he looked at him seriously but incredibly calmly and sat down next to him again, turning Mike’s head a little before he placed the folded wet pillowcase on his forehead. Mike moaned very lowly from the immediate relief he felt and closed his eyes “They did. No concussion, just a headache.”  
“I wouldn’t be too sure, let’s keep an eye on that, alright?”  
“There’s not much else we could keep an eye on in here anyway, is there?” he murmured with closed eyelids.  
Mike could hear Harvey smile “Fair point. Why don’t you try to get some rest?”

The last time his friend had been this caring towards him had been the night that Mike had left Rachel (temporarily in hindsight but it seemed very final back then) and crashed at his place.  
Right now, it was almost too much. They hadn’t seen each other for months and Mike had been so certain Harvey had never wanted to see him again when in reality he had sacrificed his own freedom to save Mike. God, he felt so guilty for all the times he had inwardly cursed the other man…  
He mumbled “Rachel never told me…”, sounding bitter and accusing.  
Harvey had shifted, his voice was closer now, Mike assumed he was lying on his own bed, staring at the ceiling as he replied “Neither did Donna. I thought you were pissed off at me for beating you to it.” Mike opened his eyes in surprise and turned his head, regretting it immediately but he couldn’t not look at him “Did you really think I’d let you rot in here without coming to visit just because I felt pissed off? Or guilty?”  
Harvey frowned “How about you? Did you think I’d just abandon you in here?”  
Mike gnawed on his swollen bottom lip “Touché.” 

Harvey looked at him sternly, “Eyes closed!” and Mike complied. His brain was working on overload though. If Harvey had pled guilty after Mike had signed the deal, could they even prosecute him? He couldn’t live with the knowledge that he was in here just because he had given him a chance and not turned him down in that interview those years ago. He revised the words of the signed agreement in his mind.  
“Mike, once you’re doing better, I want us to go through your deal. There must be a way to get you out,” Harvey interrupted his thoughts. “They wanted me from the start, you were just the vehicle to get me here.”  
Mike sat up again and frowned deeply “Out of the question! First of all Gibbs clearly wanted us both in jail and succeeded and second: I took that deal for a reason, Harvey. We need to get you out of this place. You shouldn’t be in here!”  
Harvey sat up again as well and pushed Mike back by his shoulders once more “Goddamn it, which part of ’eyes closed’ didn’t you understand? Why are you always this fucking selfless and stubborn, don’t you see what this place is doing to you?” And for the first time since that panic attack at the office, Mike could see open terror in Harvey’s eyes.  
And guilt.  
And something burning that was eating him up from inside.  
He wanted to argue with him but right now he just couldn’t. Seeing Harvey this open and vulnerable scared the shit out of him, he hadn’t even shown that side of him during the trial. Mike obeyed once more and said quietly “This looks worse than it is.” That sentence had never sounded more hollow than right now and of course he knew that Harvey didn’t buy it.

“We will talk about it once you’re better. Whoever did this to you will not get away with it.”  
“Don’t,” Mike groaned and held his forehead “It’s not worth it”.  
“They need to know their limits, I won’t let them kill you,” Harvey replied protectively and Mike had no doubt that he meant what he was saying.  
“You’re not in my unit…” Mike pointed out quietly, he didn’t have the stamina to argue any longer and when Harvey replied “Like I said: We will talk about this once you’re better,” he was actually grateful for the silence. So much had happened today and even without the blows to the head, it was enough to overwhelm him.  
He needed to stay focused.  
Find a way to get Harvey out of prison.  
Find a way to stay alive (’staying out of trouble’ wasn’t even on his list anymore, by now he knew that was a ridiculous dream to have). 

Mike felt so absolutely spent and requested weakly “Don’t wake me when they bring dinner, I’m tired. And not hungry.” But as always, Harvey had to have the last word “I won’t wake you because you look like you haven’t slept in a while. But you happen to look like you haven’t been eating either, so don’t think I’ll let you off the hook that easily. And if you start to argue with me, I’ll make you eat my dinner as well.” Mike frowned and waved it off with his healthy arm growling “Whatever…” before he slowly drifted off to the soundest sleep in two months. Harvey could be such a pain in the ass - but even though he would get his friend out of here, right now he just let himself fall knowing he was there. Because despite all, he was still the one and only person he had always trusted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of dialogue this time around and a lot of 'eyes open', 'eyes closed' - I hope you enjoy it even though it's different from the previous chapters.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I am already behind on my 'Chocolate' story, the whole scenario in the past few episodes of Suits has upset me so much because it's so inconsistent AND there are so many things that work differently in prison (did they read the goddamn handbook?!) that it has one positive outcome: It inspires me with my own prison fics... I hope you still like it, your feedback has been amazing and that makes writing twice as much fun :) Again thanks to novemberhush for being my gorgeous beta.

When Mike woke up, he felt disorientated. Everything seemed so silent, almost ghostlike but the pain in his body the moment he turned to his side was a reality check - this was real. He was in prison. Had been for two months. They had beaten him up and he had been put into solitary for his own safety.

For a moment he could have believed his recent dream, it had seemed so real... Harvey had been in here with him, imagine that! He had looked after him, ordered him to close his eyes and allowed him to sleep through dinner. Mike hadn’t felt this safe in months - even in his imagination he could feel the impact the other man had on him. The harsh prison life suddenly seemed manageable. The sense of loneliness and guilt, worthlessness and frustration vanished in the presence of his imaginary friend. Maybe his mind had made him up to deal with reality - he had appeared in a moment of utter despair, just when Mike had decided to give up. 

Part of him was glad that that could never become reality. He had signed a deal and Harvey knew better than let himself get tricked by someone like Gibbs. He was smarter than that. Mike had taken responsibility for what had happened and had to deal with the consequences now.  
By himself.  
Harvey shouldn’t be in there anyway just because Mike could have done with a friend - he was selfish sometimes but definitely not that selfish. Being in prison was something he didn’t wish on his worst enemy. Still… he felt so lost in here.  
Without guidance.  
Without a sign from the other man.  
Nothing.  
Not a single word.

Mike rubbed his eyes and stretched, glad that his headache had decided to become a distant knock in the back of his skull. When he sat up he couldn’t stop himself from hissing, the piercing pain along his spine hadn’t gotten any better since earlier. He reached back to support himself when a hand steadied him, causing him to flinch away from the touch, wide-eyed and with a racing heart. Then it dawned on him. The touch wasn’t rough, pinning him down, assaulting him.  
Nobody hurt him.  
His dream hadn’t been a dream. Harvey was real.

“Christ, Harvey, don’t do that again,” he exclaimed and tried to regain his composure.  
“Do what, help you?” Harvey tried to sound amused but failed miserably.  
Mike replied dramatically, “Attack me in my sleep?”, deciding to play along. He didn’t want to talk about why he was freaking out on him. Harvey thankfully let it rest for now and sat back on his bed. He picked up one of the trays he had placed between their beds and put it on Mike’s mattress.Down here they didn’t even give them plates - possibly to avoid suicide attempts.  
“It’s cold by now but I doubt it was any better when it was still hot…”  
Mike tilted his head and asked quietly, “You doubt…?”  
Harvey pointed at the second tray that was still untouched on the floor - it was full, “I told you I’d make you eat mine, too, in case you didn’t want to finish yours, remember? I’m a man of my word...”  
Mike sighed and reached for the plastic fork, looking very unhappy about that “You need to eat, too, Harvey…”  
“Well, I didn’t say I wouldn’t. If you manage to finish that stuff, it’ll be a win-win situation for both of us.”  
“You do know that’s blackmail, right?” Mike pointed out discontentedly as he put the fork with the slightly grey mashed potato in his mouth and pulled a face. It tasted better than it looked but he still didn’t feel like eating it. Harvey had been right: he hadn’t been doing so well on the food front… And the arrangement on these trays undeniably didn’t make the eating process any more enjoyable.  
“Yeah, I do. What are you gonna do about it?” Harvey gave him the smug Specter grin but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was too much concern in his look and it embarrassed Mike to think that he couldn’t even defend himself in here. Not really anyway.  
Mike took another forkful and mumbled “So you’re just another bully…”  
“Like the guys who did this to you,” Harvey jumped at his chance, still not touching his own food but watching him instead. 

Mike put the fork down and pushed the tray away.  
“Mike,” Harvey tried as calmly as he could.  
“What? Are you gonna start the Spanish Inquisition not even 24 hours after being locked in here with me? Or are you gonna force that stuff down my throat? I don’t wanna talk about it. At least not now. There is nothing you can do about it anyway. I’ll have to go back to that unit, you’ll go back to yours and we won’t see each other anymore for the next two years.” Mike looked at him with defeat in his eyes and he hated to show that side to the other man who obviously coped better in here.  
“I just want to help. I know people, I could pull some strings. Get you transferred to my unit. But I need to know what happened,” Harvey looked at him with open concern but also a will to fight.  
“And what if it doesn’t work? What if they find out I talked to you about them? You know as well as I do that being a snitch in here is a death sentence! I might as well just hang myself in my cell before they cut my throat…” Mike wasn’t joking. They could kill him. And they would. 

Harvey pressed his lips together and shook his head unhappily, “Fine. Don’t tell me. We’ll figure something out to get you out of harm’s way.” He clearly didn’t like where this was going but swallowed it for Mike’s sake, “But please eat.”

Mike sighed and picked up the tray again, slowly working his way through mashed potatoes and fish sticks. For a week or two he had secretly wished to just disappear and maybe that had triggered his subconsciousness, resulting in his little hunger strike. Of course Harvey would notice - nothing got past him. He didn’t meet his eyes as he concentrated on finishing his dinner so that Harvey would eat as well. Sending him to bed on an empty stomach definitely wasn’t something he’d be keen on doing…It seemed to take forever but when he was done, he put the tray back on the floor and reminded his friend, “Your turn.”, folding his arms in a short moment of thoughtlessness and biting down the agony it caused.  
Harvey rolled his eyes and reached for his food. “You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever encountered, Ross.”  
“Well, likewise,” Mike chuntered but couldn’t help grinning. “‘Another you’, remember?”  
Harvey exhaled in relief as he quickly ate his own dinner, practically starving from the look of it. Mike shook his head, that guy was unbelievable. 

“Any idea what time it is?” Mike asked as he stretched again.  
“Dinner came about… Three hours ago, I would say. So I guess it’s about eight. Hard to tell in here,” Harvey shrugged, “You slept for quite a while. How’s your head?”  
“Much better.”  
Mike shifted on the bed and leant his back against the wall in order to bolster his spine.  
“Now tell me, what did you do to end up in here?” he asked curiously.  
“Doesn’t matter,” Harvey waved aside, “Minor stuff.”  
“You don’t end up in SHU for minor incidents, so don’t bullshit me!”  
“Let’s just say it included contraband that was not explicitly mentioned in the handbook. I traded it, they caught me, accused me of having a little business going on and decided to teach me a lesson,” Harvey said in his smug lawyer voice, causing Mike to grin widely.  
“You did, didn’t you? Have that business, I mean?”  
Harvey chuckled and nodded “Of course I did - and it doesn’t have anything to do with selling used panties…”  
Mike laughed for the first time in weeks - such a liberating feeling, even though it hurt like a motherfucker, “Did you binge-watch Orange Is The New Black the days before you had to turn yourself in?”  
Harvey rubbed his face and shrugged.  
Mike shook his head. “I knew it! Well… so did I…”  
Harvey grinned at him and bashed his eyelids, “I’m glad these uniforms are blue, make your eyes pop…” He tilted his head like a girl, making Mike blush who reached for his pillow with his good hand and threw it at him and called him an idiot.

“INMATES!” a voice barked outside of their cell, “QUIET! Do you need to be separated? No fighting!”  
Mike sobered up immediately. They would be ripped apart sooner than he would have liked anyway. Maybe Mike was to stay in here for a while but Harvey most likely wasn’t… 

“Harvey, please promise me to be careful when you’re back in your unit, there are some really shady people in here,” Mike said vaguely and even though he didn’t go into details, Harvey knew where this was going. He bought some time by picking up the trays and placing them in front of the locked door, sat back down, reclining against the wall, looking at Mike across the cell and said seriously, “I promise. Under one condition.”  
Mike looked at his folded hands and asked carefully, “What’s the catch?”  
“No catch. Just. Survive.”  
Mike swallowed and leaned the back of his head against the cold concrete, “I’ll try.”  
“Trying won’t cut it for me. Promise,” Harvey insisted urgently.  
“Okay. I promise,” Mike heard himself say, not sure if that was a promise he could keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it won't stay this grim forever, Mike is just suffering from a low right now.


	9. Chapter 9

That night, Mike was acutely aware of where they were trapped. The cell was tiny and he hardly dared to breathe, fearing to use up all the oxygen in there. Very unlikely, of course the rational part of his brain knew that; those cells were built to hold one to two inmates for a longer period of time and he had never heard of any inmate suffocating in here but he still had trouble staying calm. On top of that he just didn’t feel tired. Sleeping those three hours had seriously fucked up his sleeping rhythm already but he didn’t blame Harvey for letting him - his head was bruised, he looked like shit, of course he would want him to sleep and recover. He was turned on his side with his back to Harvey, simply because that was the least painful position to be in.

Harvey and him had talked some, but not much really, Mike a little about his job in the kitchen while his friend had gossipped a bit about the guards in Unit A. Apart from that they had carefully avoided any topic that could have stirred things up or resulted in a fight.  
They had just been tired. And thankful to be themselves. Mike had given Harvey one of his books and so they had spent some hours in silence. Had Harvey paid proper attention, he would have noticed that Mike rarely turned a page - he wasn’t really reading but still trying to come to terms with this new reality. Sometimes he’d wondered if Harvey was doing the same because he also didn’t seem to progress very quickly and he knew the speed his boss usually read. Then again they had both spent two months in here, Mike had practised his slow reading skills, it was very possible that Harvey had done the same…

After some time, the light had been shut off and since they didn’t have an extra reading light in solitary the way most of them did at the dormitory (it was usually the first thing people bought in commissary, he had noticed), they were forced to put their reading material away. Mike had looked over and tried to actually see him but it was way too dark in there. God, he was glad that he shared this cell with somebody he trusted, this was definitely not a setting he considered very safe under any other circumstances than these. He’d whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Harvey…” and the other man’s, “Goodnight, Mike…” had sounded protective and strong, reminding him that he could always rely on him. And then they had tried to sleep.

It hadn’t taken long until Harvey’s breathing had become regular, soothing, and it lulled Mike but even though it relaxed him profoundly to feel his presence in the room, he’d been too worked up to sleep. And now he was lying here with Harvey so close that he could almost feel him but still too far away for actual comfort. - What was he even thinking? Where was his mind going? Was he already suffering prison blues so much that he was craving human touch? Just a hug… just anything… he was so easily satisfied these days.  
That much was true: Prison made you humble. So incredibly humble. The big deal, money, careers - it all just seemed so unimportant in comparison to peace of mind, health, love, anything human. Anything that didn’t scream concrete, steel and brutality. He wrapped his healthy arm around his torso carefully and tried to focus entirely on Harvey’s breathing. And after a while, his heart stopped racing. They were a team. They would find a way out of this. Somehow.

Mike didn’t know at what time he had finally fallen asleep but when the morning alarm woke him up and the light was turned on without warning, he still felt exhausted. He shielded his eyes from the unforgiving brightness and sat up. Harvey already sat cross-legged with his back against the wall and nodded in his direction. “Morning,” he mumbled and rubbed his eyes.

“Since when have you become a morning person?” Mike asked astonished, still trying to shut out the light in there. That was so much worse than in the dormitory!

“Best business opportunities arise in the mornings when the guards are still in slumber,” he pointed out and stretched, got to his feet and walked over to the sink, “Do you have a pen?”

Mike frowned and asked, “Yeah, a pencil somewhere… why?” before looking through his stuff and handing it over. Harvey grinned softly and looked at the empty space above the sink before he drew a circle with two eyes, a dot for a nose and a tentative smile before he handed it back over, “There, who needs mirrors?”

“Are you insane, they are gonna punish you for that,” Mike frowned deeply and put the pencil away again.

“With more time in solitary? Sign me up,” Harvey shrugged and Mike realised that he did have a point. They’d probably add a couple of days to his time down here and that was something he wouldn’t mind. They knew that they could always rely on each other, without restrictions or catches. That was so valuable - especially in here.

“Well, at least the morning routine has gotten a hell of a lot shorter,” he tried to joke and watched Harvey wash his face and brush his teeth.

“You just got yourself in here to find an excuse not to shave, didn’t you, rookie?” Harvey smirked and Mike pointed his finger at him, “I’ll actually get to know what you look like with facial hair, who would have thought I’d ever see the day?”

A friendly banter in the morning, God how he had missed that. Just harmless fun that didn’t get him kicked in the balls, a friend who understood exactly when he was joking and when he wasn’t…

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts - but what you’re not taking into account: If they only let us out of here every three days to shower and shave and the rest of the time that goddamn door is locked - they will also only collect our dirty laundry every three days. So is seeing me with a beard worth it? I bet it will stink like in a zoo in here…”

Mike wrinkled his nose, “I can live with three day old laundry, but I’m not particularly crazy about having to use that thing for number twos…” he pointed at the toilet and Harvey tilted his head, “Speaking of which…”

“Oh here we go,” he muttered in return, got up and went to the far end of the room, keeping himself busy searching for new underwear (at least they had provided him with enough of those, so far there was one extra t-shirt but no extra trousers). There was definitely such a thing as too little privacy. He hummed to himself to cancel out the sounds and wondered for how long they would bother before all of this was normal. They held them like animals in here, ‘zoo’ really was the perfect term for it.

Mike kept his back turned on Harvey and tried to get changed into a new shirt while he was busy so he wouldn’t see his bruises. Unfortunately, his injuries disrupted his plan, he was just too damn slow and when he heard the flush, the quick rattle at the sink as Harvey washed his hands and then footsteps in his direction, he froze in mid-action, feeling eyes on him.

“Let me help you,” Harvey offered calmly and as his broken rib hurt like hell whenever he tried to lift his right arm, he turned around and looked at him, embarrassed. Harvey shook his head, “Come on, it’s not like I haven’t seen you in more compromising situations than this one before.”

“Yes. But they’ve beat me up, Harvey. And I know you hate it,” his voice gave away how little he liked for the other man to see him like this.

“I hate it because I feel responsible for you being here,” Harvey admitted quietly and busied himself carefully dressing Mike so he didn’t have a chance to look into his eyes as he did so.

“Well, you’re not… Nobody is but me. At least that’s what my counsellor tells me…”

Harvey snorted, “Yeah? Well, mine is full of shit!”

“Mine isn’t,” Mike admitted and acknowledged Harvey’s help with a nod before he walked over to the sink to brush his teeth. “He made me go to one of your so-called kumbaya groups. Dealing with loss and grieving. Kinda worked…”

He started brushing his teeth to buy some time and avoid Harvey’s surprised stare but he knew that he couldn’t hide from him forever. So after he was done, he sat back down across from Harvey and started talking.

 

_One week in prison and Mike was slowly settling in. It would be wrong to call it routine just yet and he also still hadn’t quite accepted that he couldn’t just walk out the door. In addition, being convicted gave him an uncomfortable burning in his guts and he had just had his first fight with Rachel over the phone because she demanded to know how he was doing and he wouldn’t tell her the truth. That it was a struggle, that he was still watching every step he made and that he didn’t like the way people called him ‘kid’ because it meant they questioned his ability to stand his ground. But what good would it do her to know these things? Besides: She wasn’t straight with him either. Every single time he tried to talk about Pearson Specter Litt, her voice changed, she became edgy and her replies vague. He wasn’t stupid - a great deal of his job there had been to read people and he knew how good he usually was at that._   
_Not in here though._

_His intuition was off. He didn’t know who to trust so he sometimes confided in the wrong people. You needed allies in here, there was no way to do all of this on his own. The only person he was sure wouldn’t stab him in the back at any given chance was Jones. Without him, he wouldn’t have survived a day. He had also been the one to tell him that even though this was a self-help group he was about to attend, he should still be careful because yes, they were there to spill their secrets but secrets were power and power a currency in jail._

_So when he entered that room with the chair circle - yeah, his life was a fucking cliché these days - he was on guard. He didn’t want to tell everyone his pathetic little sob story of being an orphan who needed affirmation and acted like the world owed him one. Rowe had called it narcissistic tendencies in their second meeting. The fact that he apparently thought that he had a right to be a criminal because he had committed fraud to save his grandmother and when she was gone to save his friends, his girlfriend, the firm._   
_“You’re not a superhero, Ross,” he had pointed out “Just think about all the people that lost their jobs because of you.”_   
_“Do you think I don’t know that?” Mike had snapped back at him._   
_“Well, you certainly don’t act like you do,” his counsellor had stated calmly, resulting in Mike losing it even more. He’d just wanted to jump up and leave. But this was prison. You couldn’t simply come and go as you pleased; walking out of a meeting with his counsellor could have landed him in SHU - and he had heard awful things about that place…_

_So, yeah, the first two meetings with his counsellor hadn’t gone too well; naturally Mike was skeptical of what to expect. He was the first one there and sat down on a chair, crossing his arms defensively on his chest. Every single inmate that entered the room eyed him suspiciously and he returned the look. The atmosphere was tense and when seven of eight chairs were taken, the door opened once more and Rowe entered._ Oh no, you gotta be kidding me. HE’s the one supervising this? _”Guys, we have a new attendee here tonight, Mike, why don’t you introduce yourself to those who don’t know you yet?” So they were on first name basis in here - how weird considering that everybody was so keen on keeping up the jail etiquette at all times. He inhaled sharply, arms still crossed in front of his chest, frowning deeply as he muttered, “My name’s Mike Ross, I’ve been here for a week and I was assigned to this group because my parents died in a car crash when I was a kid. I was raised by my grandmother who passed away a couple of years ago.” Rowe nodded and asked, “So what do you think made me choose this program for you, Mike?” Mike tilted his head and asked impatiently, “I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell me!” Rowe nodded knowingly and smiled to the rest of the group “Now, guys, does that sound familiar?” A couple of the guys joined in the nodding, most of them stared to the floor, sad smiles on their faces. One scary looking guy with a skull tattooed right above his ear balled his hands into fists. He seemed very angry, so Mike looked away quickly._

_Thankfully, Rowe didn’t press any further but rather made the group introduce themselves to Mike. Some of the stories were heartbreaking. Andy Pearce, a man in his late 40s, lost his daughter in a fire that burnt down their house - a fire he possibly started by sneaking out to smoke a cigarette in the backyard when his wife had asked him to quit. Needless to say, his wife had left him and he had started drinking and gambling to forget about his feelings of guilt. Before he knew it, he had no family, no house, no money, so he had set up an eBay account from his cell phone and started selling imaginary items that he didn’t own, getting himself deeper and deeper into trouble but he had been so convinced he could land the big win gambling to actually buy those things and hand them over. Of course that never happened and those repeated eBay scams had landed him in here.  
David Chirkov’s wife had suffered from CML, a chronic form of leukaemia that could not be cured. They had known from the start that the treatments would only prolong her life for 10 years maximum but with the speed of medical discoveries, David had hoped that it would buy them enough time to hang in there until a cure was found. There still was none. Melinda died 8 years after being diagnosed. Medical treatment was so expensive and they hadn’t been insured properly, so he not only had to pay for the funeral but the mountain of debts he was buried under forced him to come up with a way to survive. He was working for a distributor of DVDs and Blu-rays and started taking some home and making copies that he then sold in flea markets for a bargain. It wasn’t much but it helped him get by and slowly but surely pay off his debts. Until he got caught._

 

“...and the more stories I heard, the more obvious it became to me that… all of these people had been with their backs against the walls. I wasn’t any different from them, you know? I considered them criminals. I was thinking ‘There must have been another way to get out of that mess,’and there probably was. But… if there was another way for them, there should have been another way for me, too. It made me think of all the times you told me to just break the goddamn wall down… I guess in that moment I got… that I’m a criminal and I deserve to be in here. I shouldn’t have taken you up on that offer. It was nice to joke about it, to brag about my knowledge and to impress you but… I knew it was a mistake, I had been caught once before and still I did it again. I am a fraud,” he looked at Harvey with brutal honesty and could see that the other man didn’t like what he heard.

Harvey sat up straight and looked into his eyes, “No, Mike, you did what you felt you had to do. You didn’t go to law school and I know that you felt like you didn’t deserve to be in that room with the rest of us because you didn’t go to Harvard. But trust me, you belonged in that room.”

Mike looked at his hands, “I should have found a way to finish college. Go to law school. Get a degree and start working. If I love the law so much, I should respect it.”

Harvey sighed deeply, he didn’t quite know how to put it, Mike could tell that he was searching for the right words before he replied, “We did something wrong, and now we're paying for it. But I don’t know anyone else who loves the law the way you do. And not just that. You gave your heart and soul to every client you ever had, and if any of those cases were reopened, they would end up in exactly the same place.”

“You’re missing the point, Harvey. I put everyone and everything at risk. The firm. The people I love. The clients, their cases. Everything. Because I decided to play lawyer when I wasn’t,” Mike pressed out. He felt a pain in his chest and rubbed it soothingly.

Harvey looked tired and sad now and Mike knew that his point had got across, “I don’t like it when you talk yourself down like that. It’s my fault… I should not have hired you. But… goddamnit, after I heard your story, I knew you weren’t an idiot. You were just dealt a bad hand and I just thought that you deserved a shot. I should have been the Jessica to your Harvey - I should have asked you to go to law school, paid your tuition, made sure you’d do good, which of course I knew you would, and waited until you were ready to work for the firm. Instead, I decided to take a risk with that shortcut and I ruined your life.”

Mike shook his head and gnawed on his lip before he whispered, “You didn’t ruin my life. You added the five best years to it. I don’t know how to ever go back to not being able to do what I love to do. When all of this is over, I’m back at square one. And that’s scary… Scarier than surviving in here…”

Harvey swallowed and got up. He sat down next to Mike and very carefully wrapped his arm around him, very aware of all the bruises and injuries. “We will come up with a solution, rookie,” he replied protectively and held him and this time, Mike didn’t pull away.


End file.
